A New Beginning - Part 1
by KingCobra582
Summary: Somewhat a prequel to Forced Decisions. What REALLY made Demona kinder to humans? Violence and Swearing.


                                                            A New Beginning

                                                By King Cobra3 (kingcobra49036@yahoo.com)

            Disclaimer: Demona, Angela, and the Quarrymen are the property of Buena Vista. Ethan Mueller is my property, my creation, and should not be used without permission. 

            Warning: This contains violence, and swearing. In short, my kind of fic.

                                                            Prologue

            High above the city, atop a tall building, Angela, a gargoyle of Clan Manhattan, and her mother, Demona, who was a rogue, were talking, engaged in conversation. They enjoyed spending time together. It was a great evening for them both, since the possibility of Demona's great return to the clan grew stronger with each night. 

At the moment, Demona was telling her child about some adventure she had in 15th century China involving monks when she was interrupted. Angela clearly had something on her mind, and wanted to express it. Demona stopped talking to listen to her only daughter.

"Mother?"

"Yes, my child?"

"You told me you had changed, but you have never told me how or why. Will you tell me now?"

Demona regarded her daughter with keen fascination. Angela was articulate, a well trained gargoyle that had a positive outlook of the world. Goliath had been wrong, believing that Angela's presence would not change her mother's attitude on life. But it was no secret to Demona that, given a reason to do so, Angela would walk out of her life forever. Demona knew if she wanted back in the clan, she would have to explain her sudden change of heart, or risk being alone forever. 

She chose to spill the beans. Angela had asked, and she would answer. Maybe it would straighten the bond between them. Maybe it would aid in hastening Demona's readmission to her former clan. Maybe it would do both. Thus Demona began her tale, a long journey that led to her repentance…

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            Night Stone Unlimited

            Manhattan, New York

            February 23rd, 2002

            8:43 A.M.

            In the traffic-filled surroundings known as Manhattan, cars honked, and pedestrians traveled down the sidewalks. Businesses buzzed with customers, as well as bored employees already seeking the end of the long workday. 

            And in Night Stone, Dominique Destine, though she was busy with paperwork, was reminiscing. She had a lot happen in the last eight years since her former clan reawakened, and she discovered her daughter was alive. Not only did it fill her nights with activity, but it kept her busy in the daytime as well. For she threw herself into her work. She spent nights with her daughter, and keeping busy during the sunlight hours made the time pass quicker. 

            Finishing one form, Dominique (aka Demona) snarled and flipped to the next page. Yet, even as she worked, she recalled how she had asked for a second chance with Angela, a way to prove her sorrow and newfound loyalty. She no longer abolished humans and wanted to make her daughter, and hopefully Goliath's begotten clan, see this. So she thought to the future. Soon she would attempt to gain new salvation with Goliath and the others. She knew her best chances began with her daughter.

            And she also remembered what had made her change her lifestyle…

Manhattan, New York

January 7th, 2002

10:32 P.M.

            Demona howled her chilling animalistic war cry, the updraft catching her wings. It was a lovely night in downtown Manhattan. For once, the azure gargoyle enjoyed the view. The peace and quiet of her own personal metropolis. It was her paradise. It was her home. 

            And she loved every part of it.

            Except for those blasted humans. Demona snarled in contempt at the thought.

            If there were no humans, she and the others would enjoy the world and their very lives better. There would no longer be any wars between her and her former clan. No hatred. No anxiety. Only peace, and love between her species. No strained force of living.

            No strained bloodlines.

            Not for the first time, Demona thought about her daughter, her beloved Angela. Yes, she had pulled a gun on the young child that night she and Thailog had split up, the night her clones were introduced to their, in a sense, creators. Yes, she had opposed Angela time and again. But she had no personal desire to see Angela hurt. No longing to destroy her.

            Except that Angela remained sided with the fool Goliath.

            Also not for the first time, Demona cursed Goliath's standards. Even after everything that had happened, starting with the destruction of the clan in Scotland centuries ago and ending with the current Quarrymen threat, he still believed in peace between them and the humans. That there was a possibility of inter-species acceptance. 

            If only he could see how wrong he was.

            She had tried countless times to convince him of his complete idiocy, but had been foiled constantly, and what was worse. Goliath still trusted in the faith of a peaceful existence, side by side with humanity. She realized now he would never conform. She had known for a long time that her former love could not be trusted. But she had always a carried a love for him even now, a love that had filled her with jealousy over Goliath's time with Elisa. She had always hoped deep down that he would change his mind and ally himself with her. 

            Now she knew better.

            Goliath truly was lost to her, and no matter how much love she had, no matter what she did or what she said, he would always be lost to her. Forever. She had always feared being alone, and now her fear was surfacing. Reality had sunk in that she was alone. Possibly forever, with no chance of a loving mate who understood and allied with her in all things.

            "No! No!" her mind screamed. She had lost too much of her life trying to fight humans. She had lost too many mates, too many loves. Goliath, MacBeth, Thailog. They had all betrayed her in some way or another, and she was alone again. If she found a new mate, she couldn't have it happen again. No more pain. No more betrayal. 

            No more being ALONE.

            She could feel it coming now. The tears. The rushing sadness. The sorrow.

            Swooping down into an alley, Demona collapsed onto her feet, and just lay there on the ground, sobbing. She was hurting inside, and she didn't care who saw. She needed to let it all out. Drain the sadness. 

            For what must have been an hour, Demona cried. She cried and kept crying until there were no more tears to be spilled. Finally, sniffling, feeling slightly woozy with disorientation, she stood up, and turned around to see the Quarryman with his electric hammer in front of her.

            "Surprise, monster!" The Quarryman cried sarcastically before he swung the hammer at Demona's forehead. 

            Everything went black.

            When Demona awoke, she tried to move her arms. 

            No luck.

            Demona's gaze fixated the surroundings wildly. "What in the…?"

            She saw she was strapped down onto a metal white table, the kind used in science labs, with thick leather straps that gave no comfort to her aching limbs. She roared, an animal cry of anger and pain. A sly yet dangerous voice from somewhere near silenced her rage.

            "Shut your filthy mouth, beast." The smoothly sly voice snarled.

            John Castaway.

            The Quarryman Leader sneered down at his former prey, now his trophy, restrained to the cold table surface. Her eyes flared cherries. "Blasted Human! I will rip out your heart for this!" The infuriated gargoyle screamed. 

            John smirked nonchalantly. "You are helpless. You can't hurt me, demon…" He leveled a laser gun at her chest and smiled, an insanity dancing in his eyes. "…But I can hurt you…"

            "What do you want?!"

            John looked down at Demona, all humor gone from his face. "What do I want?" He paused, seemingly thinking about it mockingly. "I want your death. Your death, and the deaths of your entire species, hell spawn."

            He pointed the gun again, ignoring Demona's enraged growls.

            "For what you and your monster race have done to my father and my brother, for all the evil you have done on this world, I will ensure you will inflict death and agony no more. I sentence you to death."

            He fired.

            He stood in the shadows.

            He hid in the bleak darkness of the lab, the same room where, fifty feet away, John Castaway was taunting the helpless object of his long burning hatred. There was an ill setting in the air tonight, and Ethan Mueller, former Quarryman turned Gargoyle sympathizer, could feel it. Something was coming. Something that would change the lives of not only Demona, and the Quarrymen, but also his own as well.

            Ethan pondered, watching John speaking to the flame haired Gargoyle on the table. What was being said, he could not hear. But he saw Demona's angry response in her body language. The way her eyes flashed. Her mouth open in a muted hiss. He knew that she was being mocked. 

            He knew he had to do something. If he didn't, John Castaway would kill her.

            Ethan watched, his mind racing back in time. His concentration suddenly materializing on the train rescue all those years ago, the train rescue that made Ethan realize that the Gargoyles were not evil after all. Simply misunderstood. 

            For the most part, the Quarrymen had disbanded after that night. But a few members still remained. Ethan had agreed to stay by John Castaway's side after the man had been released from prison, but secretly, he had switched sides. He hated John Castaway, and everything the group stood for. Enough was enough.

            That's when Ethan saw Castaway pull out the gun and he knew right then that he had to do something. 

            Looking around, searching for some solution, some miniscule way to help Demona out of her predicament, Ethan spotted the fuse box. 

            "Now the tables will turn, GLORIOUS LEADER," he thought sarcastically.

            John smiled as he aimed the gun at Demona's chest, and fired. She jerked once, and then collapsed against her restraints. Dead. 

John nodded at his companion. "Untie her. She can do no damage."

            The hooded Quarrymen complied with his boss' wishes, undoing the straps the bound Demona's limp arms to the table.

            Just then, the lights went out and neither of them could see. Then, suddenly, John felt something slam into the back of his head, and, for him, everything went even darker then before. 

            Startled, hearing John's pained yelp but unable to see anything in the pitch blackness, the Quarryman pulled a gun and was rewarded by a sharp stinging pain in his arm.

            Quickly, he began to feel tired.

            Sleep would be good right now…

            Ethan, with his specialized see-in-the-dark headset, watched as the Quarryman slumped to the floor, asleep. The sledgehammer and the tranquilizer had done their jobs. Now was the time to save Demona. 

            But was she still alive?

            Uncertain, Ethan turned the lights back on, then returned to the table and slowly, hesitantly, touched Demona's arm. There was no response. She was obviously dead. Ethan's rescue effort had been for nothing.

            Ethan sighed and looked at his watch. It was too late in the evening to bury her. Besides, how would he get a dead gargoyle to the cemetery without anyone noticing? He couldn't just leave her in some alley or dumpster. Ethan felt he owed her more then some drop-off somewhere. 

            Suddenly, he had an idea. 

            Unstrapping the dead gargoyle, Ethan lifted her up, his strong arms forming a protective barrier under Demona's waistline. He hefted her to his car, which was parked in an underground parking lot. 

            He would take her to his home for the evening. Just long enough for him to get some sleep. 

            Tomorrow he would bury her.

            There was light. So much light, it blinded her momentarily.

            Demona blinked in confusion. This room was not at all familiar.

            Where WAS she? Apparently in some filthy closet. Demona's eyes fluttered red. Why was she here? What game were the Quarrymen playing now?

            Just then, the memories of what was to her only a few seconds ago came, and she screamed a mutilated growl, her angry battle cry ringing through the halls of the building. That….BASTARD. John Castaway. She screamed unholy vengeance upon him, his followers, and, as usual, all humanity.

            How did she get here? Where was she? What had happened?

            Then, suddenly, a voice from the doorway caught her attention.

            "Who's there?" The voice called in a warning tone.

            It was a human. He had kidnapped her. 

            She decided that right then, she would kill him. Make the punishment fit the crime.

            To Be Continued…

            Any comments? kingcobra49036@yahoo.com


End file.
